Chapter 16
Eric had learned so much about the team he worked with over the last couple of years. He knew their habits, their quirks, and could anitipate their behavior with sharp accuracy.
For instance, he didn’t need to open his eyes to know that Cranston was currently slumped at her desk, releasing heavy sighs, as she tapped her pencil against the edge of the computer monitor, chin resting on her elbow as she swiveled from side to side on her chair.
Turner also didn’t need to look at the rest of the analysts in the room to know that Barnes was playing with a Rubix cube and Ng was in the middle of a particularly intense scene in one of his science fiction novels, judging by the way he flipped each page with more fervor than the last.
Sight was a powerful sense, but Turner had found that hearing was an invaluable skill. It's also quite cumbersome that his was so keen, because it not only alerted him to the frequent movement in the bullpen, but also reminded him of the lack of sound coming from Watson's office.
He tried to distract himself by focusing on the activity around him, but his ears still strained to hear something from behind her door, anything to give him a sense of what's going on inside. Still, he heard nothing, nothing that would indicate that a heated argument was taking place.
Though his rational side told him that it meant nothing, his irrational, unruly side told him to worry. It gave him an unwelcomed feeling of tightness in his stomach that he wasn't sure how to handle. Eric Turner didn’t get nervous, he didn’t worry. He was confident, perhaps to the point of arrogance, charming to the point of frustration, but never insecure, and never uncertain about an outcome.
He definitely didn’t spend his time wondering if somehow, while he was lounging here on the couch and seemingly without a care in the world, behind a closed door, Sam Harper was slowly but surely breaking down Watson's defenses and taking her away from Turner. The ache that accompanied that thought was overwhelming. It threatened to consume him, destroy him faster than any vengeance he could or does feel for this faceless beast who tortured and killed his family, destroyed his world six years ago.
It occurred to him in a split second that if Harper succeeded, if he somehow persuaded Watson to sever personal ties with him, Turner wasn't sure how he would manage to survive that. He had channeled all his hurt over the loss of his family into justified revenge, a path of retribution to be achieved by any means possible. That was the Red River Killer. That was a cold blooded killer with an agenda and a sadistic appetite for suffering.
Even if he could rationalize his dislike for Harper, he could never hate him, could never channel the hurt from losing Watson to a hatred of Harper, because in the deepest crevice of his mind, in that part of him he hadn't dare explore yet, Turner knows Harper is right. He's right that in being with him, Watson ran the risk of losing her credibility and of getting hurt, because like an unspoken weight between them, the issue of Red River Killer still lingers, reminding Turner that they're still on opposite sides of this moral battle.
That particular thought sent goosebumps down his spine, a coil tightening around his heart as he thought about the outcome of actually catching Red River Killer. He thought about it for months, ruminated on this very issue from the very first kiss they shared, but he could't bring himself to think about the 'after'.
The fear that he could lose someone he cared for so much in the process of avenging the death of his loved ones had the power to destroy all his best-laid plans. Turner was somewhat grateful when Cranston accidentally dropped her pencil, because the sound unintentionally tore him away from his thoughts.
He sat up, eyes open and sight clear. The day was bright and it was a welcomed relief that despite the darkness of his mind, the rest of the world seems untouched by his anxiety, by the torturous games his psyche played on him from time to time. His eyes only briefly fell on Watson's office, his ears straining to hear something again. Silence.
His shoulders slumped just a little, but he quickly recovered, smile plastered on his face like he was going into battle, while constantly telling himself that he shouldn't expect anything. After all, Harper and Watson are the two most calm and polite people in this building so it's no wonder that whatever showdown they're having in there, it would be handled with as much discretion as possible.
The thought actually perked him up considerably and he sidled into the break room, set on making himself a cup of tea. Cranston was already in there before him and offered to put the kettle on for him. Turner nodded wordlessly and watched her, detecting her slightly deflated posture and the crease in her forehead.
Considering that it was close to the holidays and their workload had dramatically increased, if Turner had seen any other officer in this way, the sight would not be unusual, even so early in the morning. However, if there was one thing he learned about the analyst in front of him it was that even if she was tired she would never show it. If she was having problems in her personal life she'd never let them creep into her workplace.
When she finally handed him his cup of boiled water, not trusting herself with dunking the tea bag just right, Turner decided to probe, if only to distract himself from his own anxiety. "Everything alright, Grace?" He asked softly, but it still caught her off guard.
She looked up at him, eyes a bit wide, no doubt uncomfortable with the idea of Turner knowing anything about her moods. Regardless, he gave her a megawatt smile and slowly, she softened under his gaze.
"Oh, I'm fine, Turner. Thanks for asking though." She poured herself a cup of coffee from the percolator and added the perfect amount of cream. Her back was suddenly a bit straighter and her frown was less noticeable, as if she detected why Turner realized she was upset.
"You know," Turner took the opportunity to slide closer to her, "just because you've corrected your posture and minimized the look of anguish on your face does not mean I believe you." He took a tentative sip of tea and watched Cranston narrow her eyes at him suspiciously, the slight blush rising on her cheeks was an amusing sight to the advisor.
Sometimes, he found that getting a rise out of the younger analyst was far more entertaining than annoying Watson, if not for any other reason than that the rookie still hadn't gotten used to his snooping. At times, it almost felt like Watson played up her part, already expecting his teasing and constant determination to make her blush, whereas Cranston still seemed genuinely shocked when he identified things about her that others would seemingly pass by or ignore.
"You're going to have to try harder. Or you could tell me what's on your mind. I could be quite the ear piece."
His lighthearted tone and strategically placed grin didn't fool Cranston, as she rolled her eyes and moved away, actually walking out into the bullpen with a smile on her face. Turner trailed behind her, determined to weasel the information out of her. For all her skittishness, Cranston didn't seem too disturbed when she saw him perched on the edge of the desk in front of her.
Her annoyed sigh and slight frown didn't deter him, if anything they encouraged him and he hummed playfully, sipped his tea and watched her, waiting for a response.
"Okay." She exhaled loudly and set her mug to the side, "Do you really want to know?"
Turner nodded enthusiastically, "I wouldn't have asked."
Cranston actually smirked, taking a leisurely sip of coffee, "Yeah, right. You're probably just bored."
Turner pretended to be offended, but shrugged shortly after. “
So what if I am? I still care. I think of you as a reminder of my youthful days and you don't seem as bright eyed and bushy tailed as usual today, hence I'm concerned."
Cranston raised an eyebrow at him, but the speech earned him a cautious smile, "alright, 'grandpa' Turner-..."
"Hey, I'm not that old." He interrupted, but Cranston just rolled her eyes, slightly more alert now that she had gotten a rise out of the advisor, instead of the other way around.
"What ever you say," She replied, but Turner didn’t relent.
"Are you going to tell me or not?"
"Fine, fine." Cranston sighed again, as if reminded of what put her in such a sour mood this morning. "Promise you won't laugh?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Barnes had stopped paying attention to his Rubix cube and was watching the pair with a slightly suspicious eye, his face unconsciously lit up whenever Grace spoke. The observation distracted him for a moment, but he returned his attention to Cranston, and nodded in agreement.
"Okay, well my parents called early this morning. Apparently all airports within 50 miles of their town are snowed in; all the flights are either canceled or delayed, which means I probably won't be able to make it home for Thanksgiving and it'll be the first time I'm spending the holiday without my family."
Turner was momentarily speechless, a stab of something, some emotion he hadn't felt in a long time nicking his chest unexpectedly. He felt genuine concern for Grace now, sorry that he tried to make light of the situation when she had a legitimate reason to be upset. He couldn’t remember the last time he didn't spend the holidays alone, but that standard shouldn't transfer over to Cranston, especially when he saw the disappointment swimming in her eyes.
She mistook his silence for something else entirely and rolled her eyes, trying desperately to keep composure, mumbling something under her breath about being foolish for telling him. Turner snapped out of his daydream just as Cranston moved away from him, and he placed his hand on her shoulder.
"Hey, I'm actually really sorry. Holidays are an important time to be with family and believe it or not, I could understand how upsetting this must be for you, Grace."
He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze as Cranston looked up at him with kind, emotional eyes. She's sad but smiling, almost appreciative of his words but before she could say anything, Barnes popped up beside Turner, having overheard the conversation. His eyes locked with hers and Turner felt like he was almost intruding on a private moment between the two but his natural curiosity and lack of anything to do kept him in place.
"That’s rough." Barnes agreed, hand twitching at his side to comfort Grace properly, but restraining himself under Turner's prying eye, "if it's any consolation, my mom decided to spend Thanksgiving with her boyfriend's family in Wichita, so I'm alond for Turkey Day too."
Turner really wasn't sure if it was Barnes' presence or his commiseration that perked Cranston up but when her smile finally reached her eyes, and it seemed that things were on the upswing. He was about to slip away when Ng spoke from behind his paperback, "At least your dad didn't abandon you for a singles' cruise like my mine did."
Ng's monotone voice and position behind his book don't change, which added to the humor of the situation. Cranston could't possibly stifle the giggle that escaped her mouth, even as she tried to conceal it with her hand, "Well even older people need excitement in their lives, right Turner?" The teasing only amplified the humor and even Ng could't help the smile forming on his lips after Cranston's jab. Her laughter was infectious, because soon Barnes was chuckling and Turner found himself grinning widely.
The atmosphere became so light-hearted, Turner almost forgot about what was going on in Watson's office, but was quickly reminded when the fax machine beeped and Ng, being the closest to it, retrieved the protruding document.
He surveyed it quickly, but it was obvious even before he looked up at the remaining team that they just got a case. Almost immediately, he was on his feet and headed to Watson's office, reminding Turner that unlike himself, Ng not only wasn't very aware of the importance of the conversation going on inside, but also had a legitimate reason to interrupt it. Above all else, they were both certain Watson would drop everything for a case, even the dreaded confrontation with her mentor.
Turner watches as Cranston prepare to leave her desk and Barnes returned to his to collect his badge and gun, but all that seemed irrelevant as his eyes trained on the door of Watson's office. It seemed like hours later, but Ng walked out, announcing a debriefing in five minutes and Turner panicked for a moment when he realized that no one else followed Ng out.
However, the door remained open and he didn’t even know he was holding his breath until Harper walked out and the frown on his face, told Turner everything he needed to know. The older detective looked defeated, and although Turner felt like a complete asshole for reveling in Harper's dejection, he couldn't wipe the smile off his face. It was obvoius now that whatever Harper planned did not succeed, which could only mean one thing.
Suddenly a pair of soft, green eyes were on him and he couldn't frown if he tried.
She looks tired and drained, but there was an air of calm around her, as if a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders and Turner couldn't tear his eyes away from her.
They were standing mere feet apart, a room full of people separating them, but the energy between them, that crackling electricity was unmistakable and he knew she felt it too. As she walked into the bullpen, a smile of returned confidence on her face, a sense of relief washed over him. It was a sensation so prevailing that Turner shut his eyes for a moment. He was not naive, knew happy endings were reserved for fairy tales and fantasy worlds, but there was also a sense of triumph he could not shake.
She was still here, still that powerful force, who obviously saw something to salvage inside of him.
Although Turner still considered himself beyond repair, he could not deny that if they had overcome Harper, a hurdle that threatened their stability, he had hope that maybe the ultimate test, the completion of his master plan, might not be as devastating to their bond as he originally thought.
As the day progressed, Watson felt the enormity of her conversation with Harper sink in more fully as each hour went by. The reassurance that all she needed was the confidence and respect of her team wavered as the clock ticked by and the case became more and more complicated. Then, when things could not get any worse, she received an unexpected phone call that put her in such a foul mood, she skipped lunch and locked herself in her office, head on her desk, mentally berating herself for running out of aspirin.
Her brother was apologetic as he explained his predicament, and of course she understood, but still, she was left feeling bereft and vulnerable. She was hoping to speak to him, seek his support on the matter when she saw him in a days' time, but now that wouldn't be possible and she didn’t feel like communicating her insecurities over the phone.
She hung up with him and gave herself a few minutes to sulk, knowing that if her team didn’t notice her less than spirited attitude, Turner surely would and that was a conversation she'd prefer to save for later. However, when she heard a knock on her door, a very light, barely audible sound, she knew her self-imposed isolation would not last and murmured, "come in," hoping it was anyone but Eric.
She looked up to meet a pair of inquisitive sea-colored eyes and felt like sinking into her chair, completely unprepared to deal with Turner's probing. He had his game face on, only slightly fractured by the look of genuine worry, which she was certain would not overpower the curiosity he had about her conversation this morning.
Suddenly, she felt irritated with him and he hadn't even said anything. Watson knew she was being irrational, but that didn’t stop the scowl forming on her face or her hands crossing over her chest in a protective manner.
"Can I help you?" she asked, tone slightly colder than intended.
Turner raised his eyebrows, a look of surprise crossed his features and Watson felt only a little guilty for being stern enough to put off her advisor.
"You know," he began, taking a seat across from her, "You get hangry when you skip lunch, so I suggest you take a break and grab some food."
"Not hungry," Watson replied curtly, "we've got a case to solve."
Turner countered her with a narrowed look of his own, but it was not as intimidating to her. He was obviously trying to read her, but Watson didn’t move a muscle, didn’t flinch, hoping he would give up.
"Right, well you seemed to be doing a whole lot of investigating when I came in."
The comment, paired with his innocent smile, and shifting glance should have pissed her off even more, but if anything, it reminded her how exhausted she was, how much both her interaction with Sam and the unpleasant phone call had really strained her. Despite her deepest desire to tell Turner off and throw him out, Watson sank deeper in her chair and ran her fingers through her hair.
Turner seemed to notice the change in her behavior and quickly moved around the desk, leaning against it as he placed his hands on her shoulders. "Hey," He said gently, fingers tracing over her collarbone just barely, "what's going on? Talk to me."
The playfulness in his tone was gone, but her stubborn streak was still very much in place and even though it was Turner, she was still a bit wary about opening up, unsure that she could stop at just a brief explanation of what was bothering her.
"I'm fine, just a crappy day that's all."
She didn’t look up at him; knowing just one glance into his blues would make her want to start talking and never stop. Yet, the bustle outside her office reminded her that they were in the middle of an investigation and now was definitely not the time to prove Harper right and let her personal life interfere with work.
Turner seemed to sense that she was no longer annoyed by his presence, but more uncomfortable with it, so he moved his hands off her shoulders, but didn’t move away.
"If you tell me what's wrong, it won't interfere with the case, maybe it will make you feel better, more focused?"
His words were tempting and being so close to him, even when he wasn’t touching her was enough to make her want to crawl into his arms, settle herself in his lap like she did sometimes at home when they were watching TV or just lounging on the couch after a tough day at work.
The distinct ring of a phone somewhere in the bullpen brought her back to the present and she raised her eyebrow at him.
"More focused? I don't think so. Let's just get back to work."
She made the move to get up but Turner stopped her, his hold on her arm wasn't stern or painful. Instead it was gentle and Watson found herself looking over her shoulder at him, no longer avoiding his deep blue stare, as it seemed impossible to do so.
"Tell me what's wrong." He said straightforwardly, and if she wasn't so emotionally drained, she'd laugh at the situation. He always told her how stubborn she was, but in reality, he took the prize for being as persistent, with the current situation being merely one example. "I know it's not just Harper, what happened?"
For the second time today, Turner found himself inquiring a woman about her mood, but this time there was so much more invested, so much more at stake. He spent all day anxious to speak with her, but knew from the beginning of the case that it wouldn't be a good idea to talk about personal matters with Watson in the middle of an investigation.
However, when she locked herself in her office, he'd had enough and decided to talk to her anyway. Now, he wasn't leaving until she told him what was wrong and frankly, despite his assertion that Harper was not at the root of the problem, that fear still lurked in the back of his mind. It was entirely possible that despite the disappointed look on the older man’s face earlier this morning, Watson was still contemplating whatever Harper said.
After all, it's not like Turner knew exactly what they talked about.
That thought alone sent a jolt of anticipation through his entire being and he almost wanted to shake the answer out of Watson. Instead, he settled for the soothing touch on the inside of her elbow, stroking her skin through the thin material of her shirt.
Meanwhile, Watson found herself chewing uncharacteristically on her lower lip, torn between telling Turner to go away and telling him everything. He looked so worried, so uneasy, and she realized suddenly that although she knew what happened between her and Sam, Turner didn’t.
For all he knows, she was trying to find a way to let him know that he was being transferred to another team or worse, Harper was going to Rodrigues and they would have to choose whether his job with the PPB was more important than their relationship.
The thought that he had been wrestling with all day made her anxious to dispel all his worries, "Don't worry about Sam. You were right as always. He's not going to tell Rodrigues, at least I don't think so." she gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, hoping it would alleviate some of the tension in his face, but his look remained the same.
"You think I came in here to find out what the outcome of your conversation was?" Turner asked, incredulity permeating through his words.
“Yes? Why else?"
Turner almost rolled his eyes, his face breaking into a half-amused, half-annoyed smile.
"God, you could be so dense sometimes. I came in here because I knew something was wrong with you. I already told you Harper wouldn't tell Rodrigues anything, didn't I?"
His self-assured words didn't sit well with her for some reason. He made everything sound so simple, so black and white, when it really wasn't. If anything, her entire existence was filled with shades of gray and was anything but simple.
"Yeah, you did." She replied dryly and this time when she slipped away from him, he didn’t stop her. He only watched as she moved to the chess set on the table, fingering the pieces on the board absentmindedly.
Silence fell heavily on them, Turner found himself at a loss for words, unsure of what to say. It felt like they created unnecessary tension between eachother and he was not certain how to fix it. For the first time since he got himself arrested, they were arguing about something personal, not even really arguing as the most important things were left unsaid.
He remembered the complete feeling of dread and loneliness that engulfed him for those few weeks before he showed up on her doorstep after her date and although there was no immediate danger of losing her, Turner couldn't bear the idea of feeling that way again.
He stood up and walked up behind her, whispered her name against her hair to get her attention without startling her. She flinched ever so slightly, but turned around, looking up at him, green eyes shining with unshed tears, long black lashes vainly concealing the hurt and exhaustion swimming in her gaze.
He wrapped his arms unconsciously around her, heart constricted at the sight of Watson so upset, Everything else, especially his childish dislike for a certain older detective faded away as he engulfed her in his warmth, also allowed himself a brief moment of comfort as Watson let her guard down.
Her heart was beating frantically against his, but he didn’t move, prepared to be the one that kept it together for her, letting her know that despite whatever hell awaited them both beyond her office door, he wouldn't ever be too far from her, at least not as long as he could help it.
"I'm right here, okay? I'm not going anywhere. I know something is bothering you, but you don't have to tell me. I could just hold you for a few minutes, okay?"
His warm breath tickled her ear as he spoke intimately to her. It felt as if she was his entire world, and although Watson had never been a romantic, being in Turner's arms always reminded her that there was a sort of magical feeling associated with knowing that you were a part of someone else's world. You could be important to another person, in a way that went beyond simple need or circumstance. Most of her life, she had been needed by others simply because fate had dictated it that way.
When her mother died, her father and brothers needed her. When her father died, her brothers learned to rely on her even more. In her career, others depended on her because she proved to be trustworthy and competent, but she never had someone truly want her not for what she could offer them, but just for who she was, not some role she had to fill.
However, at this moment, she felt it somehow that with Turner, she didn’t have to be anyone other than herself, anything beyond the woman she was, jagged edges and all. He accepted her, wanted her, sometimes in his own ridiculous way. Even though others may think he should appreciate that despite his obsession with a sociopathic serial killer, she still chose to be with him, Watson was grateful that Turner had chosen her.
She understood their relationship wasn't perfect, that both of them come with a truckload full of baggage she didn’t even want to touch, but there were other things that caught her attention too, instillled a sense of hope in her.
Such as the fact that despite how vague she was being, Turner was still here, still holding her, his blue eyes watched her with a hint of adoration in them. That alone made her wrap her arms tighter around him, cheek brushing against the smooth fabric of his vest as she let him hold her for a few moments longer, before speaking.
"It's not Harper. You don't have to worry about him."
"I wasn't worried." Turner lied, sweeping her bangs from her face.
It was completely untrue what he said, but figured that for the time being, some things were better kept secret. Watson fixed him with a pointed stare, the corner of her mouth twitched into a smile. Her look screamed 'liar', but she didn’t press him about it, one of her qualities he appreciated.
She might be impatient when it came to case work or the long line at the supermarket, but with him, she was always willing to wait and that was one of the things he admired about her most. "It's just that," She hesitated, disentangling herself from his arms, "my brother Daniel called today. He finally got approved for a grant to do an archeological dig in Morocco."
Turner didn't interrupt her, understood that she would be overjoyed at her brother's success, not near tears over it.
"It's great. I'm really happy for him and all, but he leaves tomorrow morning from Denver, which means he won't be able to make it for Thanksgiving, and since Luke is with his wife's family this year and Tony on a ship somwehere-..."
"You'll be spending Thanksgiving without your brothers again." Turner concluded and Watson looked up at him, nodding.
"Yeah"
Suddenly, everything became clear. Although Turner felt somehow less burdened that Harper wasn't the one upsetting Watson, it still hurt to see her so upset, especially about something like this. He knew despite how dedicated she was to her job; Watson was even more devoted to her brothers. After all, they were the only family she had and the only people that could relate at least partially to everything she had gone through in the past.
Although their busy lives didn't allow for much face time, with each one scattered across the country, Turner knew Watson made it a point to speak with each one at least once a week. She also sent gifts on birthdays and holidays. He also knew she was closest to Daniel, not only because he was the closest to her in age but also because both didn’t have families of their own and found it easier to relate to one another.
He finally realized he should have known all along that the only thing that could put Watson into such a depressed mood was anything going wrong with her family. He just wished he could something about it.
"I'm sorry," Watson sighed against his shoulder again, "I shouldn't distract both of us with this. We have a case to work on." Maybe he could do something about it...
When Watson tried to pull away from him, Turner grabbed her hand and sent her a preemptive apologetic look. Watson returned it with a surprised glance, especially when she saw the expression on his face.
He looked a little wild, as if a light bulb had just went off in his head. She had seen this look plenty of times before and it never lead to anything good, usually reprimands from Rodrigues and disgruntled suspects filing complaints, but before she could object, she felt herself being whisked out of her office.
The only thing that she comprehended as Turner literally dragged her into the bullpen was the quick "don't kill me" that escaped his lips before he gathered the team's attention.
"Guys, stop for a second what you're doing. Watson and I have an announcement to make."
Barnes looked up from the file he was reading, Cranston tore her eyes away from the computer, and Ng put down the phone, all looking at her and trying not to appear confused as hell.
"I've just informed Watson that all of your plans for Thanksgiving have gone awry. As it turns out, we're all in the same boat. So, Watson has graciously decided to host dinner at her place on Thursday. Shall we say, at four-ish?"
He shot Watson a side-glance, waiting for confirmation. He was obviously giving her a chance to back out, and she was about to, furious that he put her on the spot like that, but then she caught sight of Cranston's face as it lit up at the mention of Thanksgiving dinner together.
She knew Grace didn’t have many friends in the area, and if she wasn’t going home, she'd likely spend it alone. That seemed to warm Watson up to the idea just a little bit and ultimately cemented her decision.
"Yeah," she exhaled slightly, refusing to look at Turner for fear that her desire to shoot him would overpower anything else, "Four is great. You guys know where I live right?" Cranston nearly squealed in delight as she jumped from her desk and attacked Watson with a hug.
The sight was humorous as the older woman, not used to so much affection from the rookie, stood uncomfortably in the embrace. Cranston pulled away eventually and Watson gave her a weak smile.
"So it's settled then. Thanksgiving is back on." Turner clasped his hands in triumph and Watson had the strangest urge to drag him back into her office by the lapels of his vest and beat some sense into him. However, when she looked at her team, seeing each of their excited faces, Watson felt herself enveloped in a shell of warmth she only ever experienced when she thought of her loved ones. In that moment, she was reminded that her team was just as much her family as her brothers were.
While Turner had inadvertently reminded her of that and lessened the weight on her chest, she was still uncertain whether she wanted to kill him or kiss him senselessly. Oh, well.
She supposed that decision would have to wait. For now she had a Thanksgiving dinner to plan. Oh, and a murderer to catch.
Somehow, the first task seemed more daunting...